


Taking the Night Off

by madsydva



Series: Sherlockian Things Prompt Challenge [5]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Am I the Current King of England, Drunk John, Drunk Sex, Drunk Sherlock, Drunkenness, Frottage, Hand Jobs, M/M, No Client, Smut, The Stag Night Fix-It (Sherlock: The Sign of Three)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-11-03
Updated: 2017-11-03
Packaged: 2019-01-28 18:47:44
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,359
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12613048
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/madsydva/pseuds/madsydva
Summary: Fix it fic for The Sign of Three. Mrs. Hudson sends the client away.





	Taking the Night Off

**Author's Note:**

> Week 4 for the Sherlockian Things Facebook prompt challenge. Prompt was: What if the client didn't show up on stag night?
> 
> Yes. Week 4 and 5 are swapped I was really struggling with this one. Needed extra time on it.
> 
> I really enjoyed typing out the original dialogue from the episode!

"Alright, alright! We're leaving!" John says as the bouncer pushes him hastily out of the club. Sherlock was already stumbling towards the street with his hand in the air, summoning a cab.

John stopped and took a deep breath of the cool night air, trying to clear his head. How many shots had he taken without Sherlock noticing? Two, three, six? He couldn't remember. And how many had he fed Sherlock? 

Sherlock was still standing, with his hand in the air, on the curb. His eyes were closed and it looked as if he were dosing. John shuffled over to him.

"Sherlock!" He yelled. Though he hadn't meant to yell. John narrowed his eyes and looked around confused, as if looking for who had yelled. 

Sherlock woke with a start and nearly toppled into on coming traffic. John caught him by his arm and pulled him back.

"Where to next?" John asked

"Thasss it. That was allof them. All of the pubsss on the list." Sherlock slurred. "Whass the problem with the caaaabss round here? Don't they know who I am? Could be a 'mergency or something!" 

John fleetingly thought that maybe they should go to a strip club. Isn't that what you were supposed to do on a stag night? Though maybe Sherlock wasn't the right kind of Best Friend for that kind of entertainment.... Greg would be a better companion for that....

"Hang on! Weren't we supposed to meet Greg at some point?" John said.

"Greg? Whosss tha?" 

"Lestrade?"

Sherlock just shrugged. A cab finally stopped and they scrambled inside. 

"Where to?" The cabby asked.

"Home!" Sherlock declared. 

"That's great mate, but I need an address." 

Sherlock looked at John perplexed.

"Where do we live, John?" Sherlock looked as if he might cry. The cabbie turned and looked at them.

"Oh it's you lads. Baker Street right?"

"Uh... yes?" John says not completely sure. The cabbie pulled out into traffic and headed towards Baker Street.

"Good night out then?" The cabbie asked. There was no reply from the backseat, as John and Sherlock were already dosing, John leaning on the window with Sherlock on his shoulder.

\------------------------------------------  
Ten minutes later, the cabbie pulled up to Baker Street, stopping suddenly. This sent John and Sherlock flying forward. 

Sherlock took a tenner out of his wallet and handed it to the cabbie as John almost falls out of the cab trying to get out. They stumble to the door and John manages to get the door unlocked. John shuffles over to the steps. He only makes it to the fourth step before he sits down.

"Lemme just sit a moment." He says, leaning against the wall, eyes closed. Sherlock sits next to him.

"I think Molly tricked me." Sherlock says.

"Hmm?"

"I had her help me do the math so we wouldn't get... you know..." he says gesturing between them with his hand. John starts to giggle and lays back on the steps with his arms crossed.

"What?" Sherlock asked him.

"Molly didn't trick you, I did." John said through a fit of giggles. "I was taking shots when you weren't looking and put some in our beers." Tears were streaming down his cheeks.

Sherlock laid down and turned on his side for a proper sulk. "I was trying to make our buzz optimal without a hangover in the morning." Sherlock huffed. John took a big sigh and patted Sherlock on the side. 

"We should go upstairs." John said. Sherlock stayed quiet.

They dosed a minute and then Sherlock gasped.

"I have an international reputation. Do you have an international reputation?" Sherlock asks

"No, I don't have an international reputation." John says, eyes still closed.

"No." Sherlock states. "And I can't even remember what for. It'ssss....crime or something like that."

Mrs. Hudson comes out of her flat, taking out the trash. "Oh! What are you doing back? I thought you were going to be out late." She says. John continues to dose, Sherlock doesn't move.

"Ah.. Hudders. What time is it?" Sherlock slurs, eyes still closed.

"You've only been out two hours."

Sherlock and John sit bolt upright. Sherlock falls down a step while sitting up, then leans his head on the railing of the steps. John stands slowly and reaches down for Sherlock's arm.

"Come on, up you go." John says hoisting Sherlock up. They climb the rest of the steps to their flat together, arms around their shoulders, leaning on one another.

After hanging their coats, Sherlock collapses in his chair.

"Be right back." John says and shuffles his way carefully up the stairs to his room. He returns a few moments later with a bottle of Laphroaig Single Malt Scottish Whisky. 

"Drink?" He gestures with the bottle. Sherlock shrugs. 

"Since when do you keep alcohol in your bedroom? Do I need to be concerned about your drinking habits?" Sherlock asks. John retrieves two glasses out of a cupboard in the kitchen and sets them on the counter.

"I'm keeping it hidden from you. If I left it in here you'd use it as an aks.. asscell... to catch stuff on fire. This is a £50 bottle of scotch whisky." John says filling the glasses, only spilling a bit on the counter.

"I think the word your searching for is exssellerant." Sherlock slurs.

John enters the sitting room, carrying the glasses and the whisky bottle, and hands Sherlock his glass. John sits in his chair and takes a sip of his whisky.

"Hey, Sherlock, we should play a game...." John suggests as he toes off his shoes, placing them to the side of his chair.

"You said you wouldn't play Cluedo with me anymore. And I don't think either of us would win Operation in our state." Sherlock swirls his glass before taking a swig.

"No, a different game. Where do you keep those roller papers?"

"John? I know your inhibitions are lowered but you don't usually condone drug use...."

"What?! No, you git! It's a game! Where are the roller papers?" John says with a laugh. Sherlock opens the drawer in the side table next to his chair and takes out a package of roller papers. He tosses them at John, who barely catches it against his chest.

"Ok. The game is called 'Celebrity Heads' We each pick a celebrity name for each other. And then we ask yes or no questions to guess who we are." John hands a cigarette paper to Sherlock.

"What are the cigarette papers for then?" 

"That's where you write the name. Then you stick it to my head." John says pointing to his forehead. He gets a pen off of his side table and taps it on his lips. John mouth widens into a grin and he starts to giggle as he writes on his cigarette paper.

"Oh this is going to be good." He giggles. He hides the paper in his palm and tosses the pen to Sherlock. "Just write any celebrity name on yours." Sherlock thinks for a minute and then writes a name on his.

"Ok now what?" Sherlock asks.

John sits up. "C'mere."

Sherlock sits up in his chair. John licks the edge of his paper and then reaches up and brushes Sherlock's curls away from his forehead. He sticks the paper to Sherlock's forehead. The paper reads: 'Sherlock Holmes'.

"Now do me." John says pointing to his head and leaning on his fist. Sherlock licks his cigarette paper and then carefully sticks it to John's forehead. His reads: 'Madonna'. Sherlock sits back in his chair and picks up his glass again.

"I'll go first." John sits up and thinks hard about his first question. 

\------------------------------------------  
Below, Mrs Hudson was just about to take her evening soother with a cup of chamomile tea, when the buzzer rang. The boys didn't seem like they would be in any condition to take a case. Mrs. Hudson answered the door anyway. On the other side, stood a young woman in a nurse's uniform.

"Hello, I'm looking for Sherlock Holmes and Dr. Watson. I'm sorry about the late hour, but the website said I could come call anytime. They say he doesn't ever sleep."

"Oh, I'm sorry dear. They've taken the night off." Mrs. Hudson said.

\------------------------------------------

"Am I a vegetable?"

"You? Or the?" Sherlock says. They both snicker.

"Funny!" John says.

"Thank you." Sherlock says softly, giggling.

"Come on."

"No, you're not a vegetable." 

John throws up his hands. "It's your go!" He reaches for his glass and takes a sip.

"Uhhh... am I human?"

"Sometimes." John says with a smile.

"No, you can't have sometimes. It has to be um..."

"Yes, you're human."

"Yes, I know. And am I a man?" Sherlock asks sitting up in his chair, slouching with his arms between his legs. John sits back in his chair.

"Yep."

"Tall?"

John shrugs. "Not as tall as people think."

Sherlock puts a finger to his lips. "Hmm. Nice?"

"Ish." John answers resting his knuckles on his chin.

"Clever?"

"I'd say so." John giggles.

"You would.... Am I important?"

"To some people."

"Do "people" like me?"

"Erm, no they don't. You tend to rub them up the wrong way." John lets out a breath and giggles again, feeling a little flirty.

Sherlock grabs his glass and sits back in his chair. "Okay. Am I the current King of England?" He says sitting back up quickly.

"We..." John laughs. "You know we don't have a King?"

"Don't we?"

"No." John giggles.

Sherlock throws his hands up. "Your go."

John sits up much too quickly and nearly throws himself off the chair. He grabs Sherlock's knee to steady himself. He stares at his hand for a moment, then removes it and shrugs.

"I don't mind." Sherlock says.

"Am I a woman?" John asks. Sherlock snickers. "What?" John asks with a laugh. Sherlock waves him off.

"Yes." Sherlock answers sitting up.

"Am I pretty?" John smiles and points at his paper. "This."

"Beauty is a construct based entirely on childhood impressions, influences and role models." 

John leans on his hand. "Yeah but am I a pretty lady?" Sherlock squints at John's paper.

"I... I don't know who you are. I don't know who you're supposed to be."

"You picked the name!" John says, exasperated.

"Yeah, but I picked it at random from the papers." Sherlock said gesturing to the pile of newspapers on the coffee table. John sighs and leans back in his chair, putting his feet up on Sherlock's chair.

"You're really not getting the hang of this game, are you, Sherlock?" 

Sherlock ignores him. "So I'm a man, I'm not as tall has people think I am, I'm... I'm nice-isssshhh, clever, important to some people but I tend to rub them up the wrong way." Sherlock starts to giggle. "Got it!"

"Go on, then."

"I'm YOU aren't I?"

"What? No, you're not me!" John snickers and picks up his glass and downs the last of it. Sherlock picks up his phone and begins typing.

"Oi, we are playing this game still or what? You haven't guessed correctly yet." John says pouring himself some more whisky.

"Yessss, John. I'm looking you up. Wikipedia."

"Oh! Alright. You want?" John says gesturing with the bottle. Sherlock grunted his reply and held his glass out. John had to take hold of Sherlock's wrist to hold his glass steady. John managed to top off his glass without spilling any.

"Ok. I'm ready." Sherlock says, taking a swig of his whisky.

"Ok, so am I pretty?" John asks again. Sherlock consults his phone.

"I suppose."

"Am I American?" John leans back in his chair and sips his whisky, resting his glass on his chest.

"Yep." Sherlock says, popping the 'p' at the end.

"Am I an actress?" John props his feet up on Sherlock's chair and wiggles his toes.

"Yes, but that's not what you are most known for." 

"Am I brunette?" 

"Nope." 

"Your turn." John says poking Sherlock's thigh with his foot. John crosses his arms over his chest.

"Am I British?"

"Yes."

Sherlock thinks a second. "Am I alive?"

"Yes."

"Am I someone we know?"

"Ahh... yes." John says with a smile.

"Am I attractive?" Sherlock asks looking John in the eyes. John clears his throat, feeling a little hot.

"Yes." 

"Am I Lestrade?"

"No!" John laughs. "You think Lestrade is attractive?"

"Of course I do, John. I know what an attractive man looks like. I AM gay. But he's not my type." Sherlock says nonchalantly.

John nearly chokes on his whisky. He sits up coughing and laughing at the same time.

"Don't be dull, John. It's your turn."

"Oh, Alright." John says clearing his throat, sitting on the edge of his chair, resting his elbows on his knees.

"Am I blonde?"

"Yes."

"Am I an Athlete?"

"No. My turn!" Sherlock says sitting up on the edge of his chair. "Do you think I'm attractive?" 

"You've already asked that one."

"No, I asked if I was attractive in general. Now I'm asking for your personal opinion." Sherlock says steepling his fingers under his nose, looking at John in the eyes. 

"You're a MAN, Sherlock." John says, turning a little pink.

"I know that." 

John was feeling like he was still a little too sober for this, but answers anyway. "Yes, yes I do, Sherlock." He says quietly, looking at his hands. 

Sherlock looks playfully thoughtful. "Do you want to kiss me?"

John's eyes shoot up to meet his. "Sherlock, I... I don't think I want to play this game anymore." John goes to stand but Sherlock grabs his wrist, pulling him back down into his chair.

"Answer me, John." Sherlock says still holding his wrist and dropping off his chair to his knees in front of John. He pulls John down to the floor with him. They are kneeling, facing each other, inches apart, with Sherlock still holding John's wrist.

"Did you figure out who you are, then?" John whispers looking at Sherlock's lips.

"Yes. It was obvious from the start. Sherlock Holmes. I'm me." Sherlock moves his face closer to John's. They were so close that John could feel Sherlock's breath on his lips.

John chuckles. "I'm Madonna, aren't I?"

"It's not your turn and you never answered my question." Sherlock says.

"We are SO drunk." John says, the corners of his mouth turning up.

"Does it matter?" Sherlock says, just centimeters from John's mouth.

"No."

"Then DO YOU want to kiss me?"

"Yes." John whispers, barely audible.

Sherlock crushes his mouth to John's, holding him by the shoulders now. John goes a little weak at first, thankful that Sherlock was holding him up, but then returns the kiss. Sherlock's tongue dives into John's mouth and a groan comes up the back of John's throat.

This only encourages Sherlock more and he begins kissing his way down John's neck, leaning him back against his chair. He begins unbuttoning John's cardigan.

"Sherlock." John manages, breathless. "Sherlock, stop."

Sherlock freezes. "Oh, sorry. I.." Sherlock trails off and stands. John pushes himself up to standing and Sherlock looks away, embarrassed.

"No, I.. Sherlock. The floor was just killing my knees is all." Sherlock's eyes meet John's again.

"The couch then." It wasn't a question. It was almost a command. John moved to the couch and Sherlock closed the door to the flat and locked it, before joining John.

Sherlock was on John's mouth again, moving down his neck before John knew what was happening. Sherlock started back on the buttons of John's cardigan and soon had it all the way undone. John sat up and tore it off throwing it to the floor.

John kisses Sherlock on the mouth, pushing his jacket off his shoulders. "Take this off, you posh git." Sherlock divested himself of his jacket and tossed to the floor with John's cardigan.

Sherlock begins putting sloppy kisses down John's neck as he uses one hand to unbutton his shirt. John yanks his shirt from where it was tucked into his trousers and throws it off. He pushes Sherlock back on the the couch and swings his leg over his lap to straddle him. John kisses Sherlock deeply and begins to unbutton his shirt. He starts putting kisses down his neck.

"John." Sherlock starts. John gets Sherlock's shirt all the way undone and starts kissing down his chest. "John!"

"What? What's wrong?" John says sitting back.

"Are you... Are you sure about this? This is going very fast and we ARE very drunk and..." 

John stops him with a deep kiss. "I'm sure. I've been waiting so long for this." John says and then kisses him again. Sherlock sits forward a bit and starts to shrug out of his shirt.

"No. Leave it." John says putting his hand on Sherlock's chest under his open shirt. He brushes his thumb over Sherlock's nipple. Sherlock gasps and squirms under him. He finally lowers himself all the way onto Sherlock's lap. John lets out a groan when he feels Sherlock's hard erection next to his through the fabric of their trousers. Sherlock reaches up and pulls John's lips down to his again. John moves to kiss down Sherlock's neck, stopping to mouth at his collarbone. He pushes Sherlock's shirt farther open and puts his mouth on one of Sherlock's nipples, flicking his tongue over it. Sherlock groans and bucks his hips into John. This makes John's cock throb next to Sherlock's. Sherlock puts his hands on John's sides, pushing him down and grinding into him. 

"Christ, Sherlock." John says, breathless. Sherlock pulls him back down to his mouth and John begins to rock their hips together. John puts his hands on the back of the couch for more leverage and pressure, while Sherlock explores his chest with his mouth and hands. John rests his forehead against Sherlock's and finds a good rhythm grinding their cocks together, leaving Sherlock panting beneath him.

"John... John, I need....I want...." Sherlock gasps as he starts working his belt open.

"Tell me, 'Lock. What do you want?" John grunts between thrusts.

"Your hands. I want your hands on me." 

John sits up and finishes undoing Sherlock's trousers. He snakes a hand past the elastic of Sherlock's pants and closes a hand around his length. Sherlock groans at the touch and John starts pumping his hand. 

Sherlock pulls John to his mouth and takes them down to lay face to face on the couch. He starts fumbling with John's belt, trying to get it undone but his hands are trembling. John stops to help and they both manage to lower their pants to just below their hips, their cocks springing free and touching just at the heads. They stop, breathing heavily into each other's mouths.

"Touch me, Sherlock....please." John gasps.

"Together." Sherlock says as he wraps his hand around John's cock. John puts his hand back on Sherlock and they begin pumping in time with one another. John crushes his mouth on Sherlock's again, biting and sucking at his lips. John quickens his pace and Sherlock groans, thrusting into John's hand.

"John, John, John, John.... oh, John." Sherlock pants, almost delirious, as John runs a thumb over the head of Sherlock's cock, feeling the sticky pre-come there.

"Oh, God. Please don't stop, Sherlock." John begins thrusting up into Sherlock's hand, the head of his cock making contact with Sherlock's stomach on each thrust.

"John... John, I think I'm going to...." Sherlock cries out as he comes, his orgasm pulsing into John's hand and all over John's stomach.

"Fuck, Sherlock!" And John is coming, too, white hot into Sherlock's fist. 

They lie quiet for a moment, catching their breath. Sherlock kisses John softly.

"We should clean up." Sherlock whispers. John snuggles closer, under his chin.

"Mmm. In a minute." John mumbles. "Still dizzy."

Sherlock sighs and settles against John. He was feeling a little dizzy, too. Not sure if it's the alcohol still... or the lack of blood to his brain. They'll have to have a conversation. 'In the morning.' he thinks. Right now he wants to savor being close to John. Just this once, before they have to return to reality.

**Author's Note:**

> I really struggled with the sex here. I hope it's ok.  
> Please let me know!!! Thanks for reading!


End file.
